


The Sea of Statues - Chapter 5

by c2t2



Series: The Sea of Statues [6]
Category: One Piece
Genre: F/M, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Social engineering, performance bartending, way too many tessellations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 15:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20968715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c2t2/pseuds/c2t2
Summary: On a tour of Manoa, a few questions are answered but even more are raised.





	The Sea of Statues - Chapter 5

“Hey, this is a _super_ awkward question, old man. But I don’t think we ever got your name. What do we call you?”

“That was a deliberate omission on my part,” the old man replied to Franky. “I’m not overly attached to my own life, but my family is another story, and telling you who I am could put _them_ in danger, too. For now, why don’t you just call me Guide?”

“Thank you for your hospitality, Guide-san,” Robin said politely, “If you don’t mind, I believe there are other members of our crew who would be better suited to enjoy your art.”

“By all means!” the man smiled.

The three of them re-boarded the Sunny and sent over the kiddy trio. Usopp was their resident artist and Luffy and Chopper were just easily impressed. Soon, the oohs and aahs and Luffy’s exclamations of “_SUGOI_!” were drifting out across the water from the inside of Guide’s ship.

When the old man came out, there were actual tears in his eyes. “An artist lives for the acknowledgement and appreciation of his work. Thank you all so much.” He bowed to them and then straightened, “Now I will make my offer to you all at once.”

The Strawhats quickly agreed to the old man’s terms. They would not attack anyone – excepting self-defense – and in return the man would give them a tour of Manoa.

Nami wasn’t thrilled about the delay in getting to the treasure, but brightened up when reminded that she would have a chance to record the mysterious island for her maps.

As they assembled along the beach to wait for the old man – minus Franky who had drawn the short straw to guard the ship – Zoro had a pretty good idea how this outing would go: Luffy would eat everything in sight. Nami would steal whatever wasn’t nailed down. Sanji would noodle off after the first skirt he saw... And Zoro himself would locate a bar to plant himself in until things went south and they all got chased off the island.

It was practically a ritual.

Their guide eventually showed up, now appearing dressed for serious bushcraft rather than royalty attending a banquet. At least _this_ outfit didn’t look like two minutes of direct sunlight would slightly fade the colors and thus permanently ruin it forever.

As they traveled through the forest, Chopper and their guide fell into deep conversation.

“If you can’t tell us where Manoa gets its wealth, then tell me this - it is inherent in nature that a population will expand until it exceeds available resources. How is Manoa immune to this?”

“That is a good question! The answer is that we are extremely careful to keep our population stable.”

“Aha! I knew there must be a dark side to Manoa! Do you euthanize ‘undesirables’? Is that it? Even keeping people from having as many children as they want is inhumane! It inevitably leads to eugenics and oppression of marginalized groups, and -”

“On the contrary!” their guide interrupted the little reindeer, “the system was carefully designed. Allow me to explain. Every citizen is allowed to have one child of their own if they marry an outsider – or two per couple, if two Manoans marry one another – which would be exactly replacement level.”

“But-”

“Hold on, let me finish. Plenty of people want more children than that, and there are ways they can have them! See, when people age out of their reproductive years without having children, then they can undergo the minimally invasive sterilization procedure – to prevent accidents you see – and give away their unused child credits to someone younger who wants to have more. Similarly, when tragedies strike and people die young before having their children, then their unused credits go into a public lottery that citizens can enter to win credits for more children – those who enter the lottery gaining preference points as they age. If a Manoan is unable to find anyone to give them another child credit, and doesn’t win the lottery, but still doesn’t want to stop after their last allowed child, then they can freely move away – can take some or all of their family with them if they want – and permanently go to the outside world. If they do that, then the number of Manoans that were lost to the outside world is immediately put into the lottery as child credits for replacement.”

“Okay, I suppose that isn’t as bad as I thought... How often do people leave?”

“It almost never happens. A citizen’s needs here are guaranteed, whereas in the outside world, people toil under backbreaking labor all their waking hours in meaningless and unfulfilling jobs, and if they’re lucky they earn a bare subsistence survival in return. Otherwise they simply perish of poverty.”

“That’s a very gloomy way to look at it, but I suppose it’s not wrong.”

“Look!” the guide changed the subject, indicating the buildings appearing through the gaps in the trees. “We’ve reached the main village of Manoa, Guatavita. Let me show you its wonders!”

***

Zoro had never spent so much time looking at the ground. He was starting to get a crick in his neck.

The people of Guatavita ran indoors as soon as they spotted the Strawhat Pirates, leaving only Guide to tell them about the place.

Their guide knew little about the history or architecture of the houses and other buildings – though it was obvious at a glance that each one was a masterpiece of some kind – but the old man was extremely fixated on the roads themselves, obviously having some kind of personal stake in them.

“This one is simple, but one of my favorites. The [floret pentagonal tiling](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Snub_trihexagonal_tiling#/media/File:P7_dual.png)!”

“This one is called something like ‘[snub hextille](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Euclidean_uniform_tilings#/media/File:1-uniform_n10.svg)’. Forgive my faulty memory.”

“This is another [especially beautiful floral one](http://www.angelfire.com/mn3/anisohedral/43536A2.HTM). She likes using these in residential areas”

“[Rhombitrihexagonal tiling](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Euclidean_uniform_tilings#/media/File:1-uniform_n6.svg)… or was it rhombihexadeltille? Hmmm…”

“I can’t remember the name of this one – I always just called it ‘[Sunburst](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Euclidean_tilings_by_convex_regular_polygons#/media/File:3-uniform_57.svg)’!”

“And its brother – [Starburst](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:2-uniform_n20.svg)!”

The Strawhats’ eyes were starting to go crossed at all the dizzying patterns.

“Now this… is Main Street!”

“How… how are you supposed to use a street that’s [made of cubes](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhombille_tiling#/media/File:1-uniform_7_dual.svg)…?” Chopper tilted his head in confusion. 

“Ahaha! I love it when someone sees this for the first time! Come closer, you’ll see it’s perfectly flat, the tumbling blocks are just an illusion.”

As they stepped onto the street, they saw it was, indeed, a flat surface that only looked three dimensional.

“There’s [a triangle one ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Snub_trihexagonal_tiling#/media/File:Tiling_Dual_Semiregular_V3-12-12_Triakis_Triangular.svg)I could show you too, if you like.”

“Uh, no, thanks.” Nami groaned.

“Dude. Who _does_ all this?” Usopp asked.

The old man beamed, “This was all my daughter! She is truly special. We have so many artists and architects and gardeners and fashion designers and so, so many scholars in Manoa – and they all do amazing work – but my daughter, she looked at the pavement of _roads_, of all things, and said ‘I can make _this_ my life.”

“Oh? Tell me more about your daughter,” Robin asked as they began walking again.

“She’s wonderful. To _maximize her work_, she studied two solid decades to become a mathematician, a machinist, and a materials engineer. And she did it! Since she isn’t paving with traditional square setts, she needs to make each individual piece out of the strongest available materials, so that they will last for a long time under the stresses of temperature change and erosion and pressure from traffic on the roads. She has engineered a substance so strong it has been compared to the stone of poneglyphs, and can be made in a number of contrasting shades and colored tints without compromising the strength. These roads will last for centuries! The trouble is, the material is so strong and the setts must be shaped with such precision that it is horridly difficult to make each one, especially the more complicated shapes. It took her nearly a decade to adapt the cutting machinery we already have on Manoa - writing all new software for laser-guided cutting tools. I confess I don’t much understand it, simple artist and fisherman that I am.”

“You used that term “to maximize” before, when you were talking about being a guide. Now you used it for your daughter. What does that mean?” Chopper asked.

“Ah, sorry. I’m not used to speaking with outsiders. 'Maximize' here on Manoa means making something the best it could possibly be. It’s quite the coincidence you should bring that up now, considering what you’re about to see… and now we’ve reached it! – The work that is going to be her masterpiece.”

Even Zoro boggled at the… [whatever he was seeing](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isohedral_figure#/media/File:Capital_I4_tiling-4color.svg).

“This is an important road to her – it leads her... uh... to a place that is very close to her heart. She said this one was a thing called 'Topological square tiling distorted into spiraling I shapes' – excuse me if I didn’t say that exactly right. The setts are so complicated it takes days for her machines to carve each one. She keeps building more, but even so she'll be working on this road for the rest of her life. Then, an apprentice – either her own child or someone else whose passion matches hers – will take over for her, and possibly even a whole generation after that one before the road is finished.”

These were just the roads, Zoro thought, looking down as he walked. Just _roads_ \- a surface you traveled on. A part of the world so small and insignificant that Zoro had never bothered to notice them. The old man knew about the roads because of his daughter. What about all the things he didn’t know about?

What else were they passing by that they weren’t even noticing, but that someone had… _maximized_ at some point, making something ordinary into a thing of wonder? If the Manoans weren’t always running away at the sight of the Strawhats, what other crazy shit would they be learning about Manoa?

Zoro looked up and realized he was alone. Had the others gotten lost again? And the guide, too! Man, everyone sure was incompetent.

He continued along, following street after weirdly-patterned street, until he reached something new. This was not like the residential and business districts that the guide had taken them on, this was some kind of industrial park. Zoro rounded a corner just in time to see an enormous hydraulic press crush something metallic between two semi-transparent plates. When the machine opened back up, workers removed a flattened and roughly disc-shaped lump of metal from the compartment.

A brown-haired woman in a hard hat, safety goggles, and work clothes approached Zoro, “Hey! Why aren’t you weari- Oh, hello. I don’t recognize you. Are you an invader or a worker?”

“…Neither,” Zoro answered after a moment. “I’m looking for a bar.”

The woman hesitated for a moment but then smiled, white teeth standing out against her dark skin, “The bar we go to after work is that way.”

He started off in the direction she indicated, only to be brought up short as she snagged his elbow and led him in another direction.

Why had she pointed him the wrong way if she had wanted him to go a different direction? Tsh. Whatever.

They stopped in front of a decently bar-like establishment and she left him at the door.

Zoro went inside to see that the inside of the bar matched the outside. Billiards, darts, tables and chairs, and a long bar complete with bartender gave the place the look of a typical West Blue bar.

A person of indeterminate gender was currently tending the bar. The bartender had a shaved head, olive skin, and kohl-lined eyes. Their outfit made of intricate patterns of brightly colored beads marked them as probably a Manoan.

“Hello!” they said. Their eyes scanned Zoro, taking in his battered boots, worn canvas trousers and cheap Henley shirt. “Are you a worker or invader?”

“I’m a customer.”

“Okay! Let me start you off with one drink on the house. I’ve been practicing this recently.”

The bartender took a bottle from the rack and sent it spinning rapidly on the palm of their hand. Suddenly the bottle was snatched and flung, end over end, into the air as the bartender’s hands blurred, arranging a glass and ice before catching the bottle at the right angle above the glass to hold it perfectly still as a precise amount of the brown liquid poured out.

Their hands gave another flick and the bottle spun again before sliding neatly back into the rack.

The last spin had been a sleight-of-hand distraction, as the bartender produced a lighter, took a mouthful of something Zoro couldn’t see, then flicked the lighter and blew flames across Zoro’s drink.

The flames caught the alcohol and burned blue above the rim of the glass for a few seconds before flickering out.

“There!” The bartender whooped and jumped into the air, pumping their fist. “It worked! I’ve been working on that one so long… you don’t want to know how many bottles I’ve dropped practicing. …And I didn’t even set anything on fire this time!”

“Uh…” Zoro said intelligently.

“Sai!” came a voice as someone barreled out from the back room, “Didn’t I tell-”

The newcomer was a woman with an accent Zoro had never heard before. She had very pale skin, short orange hair, and a kerchief tied around her head to hang down over one eye. A couple of visible scars indicated she had been in a few fights.

“Sai, go in back. Let me handle this.”

The newly-named Sai muttered something that sounded rude in a voice too quiet for anyone but Zoro to notice. As they disappeared into the back room the new bartender approached Zoro, looking him up and down, eyes lingering on his swords. “Let me guess… did one of the dojo masters bring you in as a guest instructor? You must be pretty good with a sword if they went through all the effort to bring you to Manoa.”

“I’m decent with a sword, I guess.”

“I bet. So where are you from? You’re not Manoan.”

“East Blue,” Zoro eyed the glass of booze suspiciously. “Is that okay to drink? It was just on fire.”

The woman laughed. “It’s fine. Sai takes any chance to practice so they can _maximize_ their bartending. They aren’t ready to take their skills out of Manoa, but soon they’ll be ready to add dance moves and acrobatics to the performance mixology.”

“What is _with_ this place?” Zoro said, mostly to himself.

“I can answer that if you want,” the bartender said, sitting down and pouring herself a drink – thankfully normally. She clinked her glass against Zoro’s suspicious mix and threw back the liquor with a practiced motion.

“Go ahead,” Zoro picked up his drink and finally swallowed. It tasted normal, at least. Although it was higher quality than he was used to.

“You know how everywhere else in the world children are scared by stories of the boogeyman? Well here in Manoa, the stories are about the Celestial Dragons.”

“…Oh?” Zoro prompted once it seemed she was waiting for a response from him.

She continued while refilling their drinks, “Becoming complacent, lazy and useless is considered the worst possible fate in Manoan culture. The spoiled world nobles are the worst thing the Manoans could become if they allowed themselves. Children here are terrorized with stories that would make your skin crawl. It’s why they’re such workaholics, and why ‘good’ is never good enough.”

“That explains a lot.” Zoro thought back on all he had heard about Manoans as he finished his next drink. The liquor was finer than he was used to, the subtle flavor hiding the potency of the alcohol. The bartender poured him another one.

“You don’t talk much, do you? I don’t mind. It’s nice just to see a new face once in a while.” Both of them rapidly knocked back their drinks.

That didn’t seem to need a response. Zoro scrutinized his empty glass and looked at the light reflecting off the ice.

“Sorry about sending Sai away. I didn’t know whether you were hostile, and Sai has so much potential it would be a shame if they were killed so young by some random invader.”

Zoro grunted.

“It’s rare for a Manoan to take up bartending,” the woman continued their one-sided conversation, “Manoans only do things that can be _maximized_, and most people don’t see the skill and art involved in simply pouring drinks. They think there’s a limit to how good you can get at it. Once you know every drink and how to make them, what more is there to learn? Sai saw the potential for more.”

“Do you get invaders here very often?” Zoro asked, wondering whether she had her scars before she came to Manoa, or if they were more… recent. One of them looked pretty fresh.

“Ha! You’d be amazed,” the woman grinned at him, “Most Manoans think the invaders are only after treasure, but I know better. They’re after treasure _and_ a place for a good drink and a good brawl. Most of ‘em stop in here since we’re the closest bar to the treasure island. I never let Sai take those shifts – some of the invaders are also looking for fresh meat, if you know what I mean.”

Zoro grimaced.

“Can’t say it’s all bad, though. Once in a while some of the invaders aren’t bad looking. Y’know…”

Just then there were running steps outside and the door to the bar flew open.

“ZORO! Zoro, You have to see this!” Nami burst in looking frantic, “Quick! We need your help!” She was off like a shot.

“Well, that’s my cue,” Zoro said, finishing his drink. “How much do I owe?”

The bartender said a number that made Zoro’s jaw drop open and his eyes flick briefly to the open door.

“Bahahaha! Don’t worry about it. Just pay whatever you have, and to repay the rest just don’t kill anyone on the island.”

“…You knew the whole time that I was here as a pirate, not a worker.”

“You got it. Though I was hoping I’d have enough time to persuade you to go back to my place for a while, if you know what I mean.”

Zoro blamed the heat in his face on the alcohol as he left the bar.


End file.
